


The College Thing

by Rainsaber



Series: The Non-Superhero Stuff [1]
Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Aunt May pulls no punches, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Nightmares, Nosy Happy, Panic Attacks, Peter Angst, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Tony Sass, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, college rejections, spiderson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-26
Updated: 2018-10-26
Packaged: 2019-08-07 23:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16417976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainsaber/pseuds/Rainsaber
Summary: Rejection season is one of the most stressful things for high-schoolers aside from prom and maybe their first car. Peter Parker, aka Spiderman / Stark Intern /Kind of Avenger / Midtown Decathlon Absentee / Queens Nobody was no exception. And having a dad complex on top of that was just the icing on top of the proverbial shit cake of his senior year.





	The College Thing

**Author's Note:**

> This is just a little one-shot I’ve had in my head for a while. I’m actually pretty happy with how this turned out, but do let me know what y’all think since technically it’s my first venture with this pairing. It’s a separate universe from Ohana Means Family (which doesn’t have Irondad/Spiderson just yet, but will eventually). I am considering a sequel to this, but not in the near future. This is just my way of procrastinating for the meantime. I swear I’m working on the next Ohana chapter. Just needed a wee break. 
> 
> Based on my own experience, I got waitlisted and eventually rejected from one college, straight rejected from my dream school, and accepted to two others (one of which turned into a dream school though I wouldn't realize that until much later). As a working playwright I additionally deal with rejection EVERY freaking day. Rejection sucks balls. But it does mold you and shape you into the person you'll eventually come to be. So kids: just because a school, or anyone for that matter, determines you're not worth their time, it doesn't mean they're right. At all. Ever. You keep pushing. People will say yes. People will take a chance on you. And then you prove those other assholes wrong. 
> 
> Anyway, happy reading! Leave me some comments if you've got the time!

Peter jumped and locked eyes with Mr. Stark when the billionaire dropped his tablet onto their shared workstation desk, which resulted in a loud couple of cracks.

 

“Seriously, Pete,” the billionaire addressed, mildly exasperated. “What the heck is stressing you out so much?”

 

Peter opened his mouth, but not much came out at first. Okay, yeah, he was kind of distracted lately. Not paying attention during lab sessions. Not answering texts. Not logging as much time in the suit. And now apparently not talking enough, though after thinking on it for a moment was fair given his track record. “It’s… dumb,” he settled for, shaking his head. “It’s nothing.”

 

Tony raised a non-impressed eyebrow. “It can’t be both dumb and nothing.”

 

Peter shrugged, insistent. “Then it’s nothing.”

 

Tony narrowed both eyes at his protégé. “It’s college applications, isn’t it?”

 

“Wha-but-no!- _No,_ ” he exclaimed, startled. “It’s _not._ ”

 

Tony stared at him and Peter rolled his eyes.

 

“It _is_ dumb and it _is_ nothing, Mr. Stark.”

 

“Mind explaining that string of logic from that supposed genius brain of yours for me?”

 

“Not really.”

 

“You don’t wanna go?”

 

“No! I… I do, but… it’s just not _realistic_.”

 

“How is college not realistic?”

 

Peter didn’t answer him, not liking that they were even broaching the subject in the first place because every time he thought about it these days he’d quickly devolve into a downward spiral of inadequacy and insecurity and an eventual panic attack he’d have to talk himself down from. And letting Mr. Stark (Iron Man) know about any of that was just not going to happen. The only problem was… this was Mr. Stark. Once the man set his stubborn mind to something, practically nothing short of an alien invasion could distract him from it.

 

“You even look at any places,” Tony prodded.

 

Peter finally gave up on the new equation for a lighter web formula. “Sure, but what’s the point if—”

 

“Please don’t tell me you’re applying to NYU.”

 

“What?! No! Their financial aid _sucks_.”

 

“Oh, thank God. Nothing’s worse than that, so whatever it is you’re worried about is officially not as bad as I thought. Lay it on me,” the genius said leaning forward and propping his head on his hand. “Where else?”

 

Peter sighed and turned to face his mentor more fully in the swivel chair. “Columbia?”

 

Tony arched another eyebrow. “ _Columbia?”_

 

Peter withered, but at least tried to defend his choice. “It’s a top… _twenty_? It’s local! Kind of. That would mean I could stay here. I could keep being Spiderman. I could keep working with you, stay with May, not have to worry about room and board-”

 

“Kid, you do realize wherever you’re going you won’t have to worry about anything, right?”

 

Peter frowned, confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“Your internship covers college tuition.”

 

“What?! Since when?!”

 

Tony thought about it and shrugged. “Since now.”

 

Peter sputtered. “Wh-But-No! Mr. Stark, I can’t accept-”

 

“Kid, I haven’t been paying you for your time anyway.”

 

“You gave me the suit!”

 

“For your own protection and what’s left of my sanity,” he said, grabbing his tablet again.

 

“You let me stay over on Fridays,” Peter continued. “We have pizza. We went to that Mets game. You got me a new phone-”

 

“It’s called leisure time, human necessity, and backpay, Parker. Speaking of which, do you want Giovanni’s or Maria’s?”

 

“Ugh, you’re _not_ -”

 

“ _Listen_ ,” Tony said, laying the tablet down gently this time. “As much as I’m pulling for MIT here, I admit that’s for selfish reasons, aside from the fact that it’s the best school in the country and you’re a mini-me genius, but that’s besides the point. We’ll see who says yes, and here’s the important part: wherever you want to go, you’ll go. I don’t care if it’s Columbia. I don’t care if it’s California, or even China…We’d have a conversation about overseas first, but you get what I’m trying to say here, right? This is your future. Your future is your choice, regardless of where the money is coming from. As long as you’re happy, that’s the only payback I’ll ever need.”

 

“W-what if…but what if-”

 

“What if what?”

 

“What if I’m just some dumb kid from Queens who-who won’t get in anywhere or-amount to anything beyond-I don’t know-anything…” Peter deflated, crossing his arms, and curling in on himself.

 

“That is _possibly_ to date the **stupidest** thing I have heard come out of your mouth. And I think you need to let me finally scare the living shit out of that Flash asshole.”

 

“Please don’t.”

 

Tony rolled over next to Peter and laid both of his hands on Peter’s shoulders. “ _Peter_ , you’re not just some dumb kid. You scored a 1598 on your SATs and you go to _Midtown_ for God’s sake. You’re my intern. And Spiderman, but that goes unsaid. Face it, kid, you’re special and nobody’s going to let you forget it. These schools would kill to have you. The only thing you have to decide is where you want to go. And also what pizza you want.”

 

Peter exhaled and broke eye contact with the billionaire, feeling the panic start to take root in his gut. “I mean… New York is one thing. I-I can’t look at places on the other side of the country just because they’re top schools-it doesn’t make any sense!”

 

“You do realize I still have a house in Malibu.”

 

Peter frowned. “Didn’t that get…destroyed?”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “And am I not a billionaire with a nostalgia problem? I rebuilt it. And it’s better. So if you do want to consider schools out there, you can keep it LA local if you want. But I’m only saying this _one more time_. Wherever you want. Okay?”

 

Eventually, Peter let out a long defeated breath. “…okay.”

 

“You want help looking at places?”

 

“ _Yes,_ ” Peter sighed loud and dramatically as he dropped his head onto his folded arms on the table.

 

Tony just snickered and laid a hand on his back. “Alright. This calls for copious amounts of take-out. So if you don’t decide which pizzeria we’re ordering from in two seconds—”

 

“Maria’s—”

 

“ _Thank you_.”

 

In the end, Tony pushed Peter to apply to at least three schools, despite Peter’s argument about the ridiculous application fees (that Tony guilted Peter into letting him pay for, which was just playing dirty, but again… this was Tony and his power for guilt trips was epic). The essay proved difficult, but May agreed to help him when he had an actual panic attack at her suggestion of showing it to Tony, because it was about being so fortunate as to have the genius as a mentor in the first place. Getting everything in on time while also dealing with huge fall papers and a big science project nearly caused another one, but with Tony and May’s combined efforts with scheduling (and Tony remotely disabling Karen on more than one occasion) he got everything in on time.

 

Christmas came and went, as did a few major snowstorms, which made for interesting patrols and Tony threatening to ground him for life if he ever forgot the heating feature in his suit again. May grounded him for a month after that when she found out. Peter was still a bit mad at Tony for being a tattletale, but after a few weeks into his imposed prison-sentence he realized when you nearly slip into a coma and give your mentor and aunt near heart attacks being grounded was a minor punishment.

 

Eventually the weather started to warm.

 

And then the letters started to come…

 

It was a Friday in early March when Peter got the first one in the mail. It was from Columbia. Normally Happy picked him up from school when he was done for the day on Fridays (because Fridays were lab days), but Tony had warned him ahead of time about a big deal meeting, something to do with a merger and Stark Industries that would push Happy’s schedule back. Tony told him to expect Happy to pick him up at the apartment, so Peter just shrugged it off and took the subway home. He didn’t even make it up the stairs to the apartment before Happy pulled up to the curb. Peter begged the man off for just a minute while he grabbed the mail from their mailbox.

 

That was when he saw the letter among the various bills. He glanced nervously over to Happy who looked busy texting someone outside. In his excitement he ripped the letter open and eagerly opened the one sheet of paper within. He stared at it for a while in disbelief.

 

_Dear Mr. Parker, The Admission’s Committee has completed the difficult task of selecting the group of students to be admitted to Columbia University for fall of this coming year. I am sorry that we are not able to offer you a place in the next incoming class. I know that you invested much time and energy into your application, and I regret that this outcome is not different._

It went on for two full paragraphs after that, but Peter didn’t have the heart to read it.

 

What was the point? They said no. His only local option said no. Now, he was either looking at being hours or days away from home, or dare he even think it, without an acceptance at all. The latter was jumping the gun, he knew that, but still. It was Columbia. MIT and the University of California were harder schools to get into… and if Columbia rejected him…

 

He stuffed the rest of the mail back into the mailbox for May to retrieve later, and didn’t really know what to do with the rejection letter. It was in his hand when he exited the building. Happy had already gotten back into the driver’s seat, so Peter slipped into the back and buckled his seatbelt.

 

“What’s that,” Happy asked from the driver’s seat.

 

“Huh,” Peter said, still dazed.

 

“The letter you got,” he clarified as he pulled out into traffic. “What is it?”

 

“Um… rejection letter.”

 

“ _What,_ ” Happy exclaimed. “From where?!”

 

“Columbia.”

 

“Oh.”

 

Peter gave the man an incredulous look. “Oh? It was my only local option!” Peter sighed. “I don’t know if I’m ready to…”

 

“Move far away?”

 

“Yeah… and the other two are more expensive, and if I don’t get a scholarship—”

 

“Kid. Don’t catch your eggs before they hatch.”

 

“It’s count, Happy.”

 

“See? You’re too smart for those assholes. And you know Tony’s paying for it.”

 

“I know but…”

 

“But what? I don’t see how there can be a but here…”

 

“I don’t know…I just… don’t want to talk about it, okay?”

 

“One last word of advice?”

 

Peter sighed and looked at Happy through the rearview.

 

“You gotta get over this thing you have.”

 

Peter frowned. “What thing?”

 

“The thing. Whenever Tony wants to give you something that has monetary value. You’re family kid. He takes care of family.”

 

“I…he doesn’t think of me like that, Happy. I’m just some kid from Queens.”

 

This time, Happy frowned. “You sure you didn’t get a concussion the last time you left medical?”

 

Peter sighed heavily. “Yes.”

 

“Do I need to punch that Flash kid?”

 

“ _No_.”

 

“Good. Because you’re not just some dumb kid. Okay?”

 

When they got to the compound, Peter thanked Happy and trudged inside. Before Tony could demand to know what was wrong, because Peter knew Happy usually texted Tony about their car conversations, Peter tossed the rejection letter onto his portion of the workdesk. It slid across the glass and poked the genius in the arm. Tony gave Peter a long-suffering look and snatched the offending paper up to read it.

 

Peter stood there awkwardly, hands in his pocket and eyes trained to his feet, more than a bit embarrassed and dejected. It wasn’t like he _wanted_ to show his mentor how much of a failure he was, but what was the use when the genius would find out one way or another? Better to just rip the band-Aid off and get it over with, not to say there had even been a band-aid in the first place.

 

In the end, Tony just made a small noise of boredom and folded the paper back into its envelope. “You know what we do with these, kiddo?”

 

Peter shrugged and shook his head.

 

“Follow me,” he said with a wink.

 

So Peter did. Tony led them upstairs to the living area of his personal quarters (where Peter also had his own guest room) and tossed the envelope with the letter inside onto the gas fireplace. He turned to Peter who stared at him in part exasperation part disbelief.

 

“You wanna do the honors,” Tony asked him.

 

“Are you serious,” was all Peter could muster to ask in return.

 

“Dead serious,” the billionaire quipped. “If they don’t want you, you’re not worth their time.”

 

“But what if—”

 

“I see one letter on one fire grate. It’s six thirty and we are both overdue for some Thai take out because I have new ideas for that Iron Spidersuit. Last chance, Underoos.”

 

Peter cracked a smile and huffed some laughter. Eventually he said, “Light it up, Friday.”

 

The fireplace lit up beautifully, and Peter watched the letter blacken and burn while Tony placed their take out order. He looked over at Mr. Stark and smiled to himself, knowing the billionaire wasn’t paying attention to him. The sight and the man’s actions made Peter feel more sure that his essay had been the right one to write and submit. By the end of the night, Tony had Peter almost believing the rejection was the smallest most insignificant determining factor of his future.

 

At least Columbia had sent him an actual letter.

 

The University of California sent him an email, a week later.

 

Another rejection. And the worst part was that Flash peeked over his shoulder and humiliated him in front of Spanish for it (rather their sudden free study hall when their actual teacher suddenly came down with a stomach bug). There was some laughter, but not as much as Peter feared there would be.

 

“You just got rejected from CalTech, asshat,” MJ jabbed.

 

“How did you know that,” Flash demanded, spit flying from his mouth in his fury.

 

“I didn’t,” MJ said with a smirk. “But now everybody does, since we’re sharing.”

 

Flash turned beet red and flung himself back down in his seat, kicking at the seat of the poor student in front of him, and sulkingly glaring at the back of MJ’s head.

 

“Damn, MJ,” Ned muttered.

 

MJ shrugged, her attention already back to her sketchbook.

 

“Seriously, Peter don’t worry about it,” Ned said to him after class. “Everyone’s got it hard with rejections this year. Something to do with the government and scholarship funding from what my mom says. If it makes you feel any better I got waitlisted at Northwestern?”

 

It really didn’t.

 

“What if I don’t get in anywhere,” Peter asked May at the dinner table that night. “I only applied to three places because the application fees are so high…”

 

“We’ll figure it out, honey,” May said, clearing her plate. “I’m sure Tony would be happy to still have you as an intern while you figure things out. Besides, a lot of people don’t go to college. Some go right to work. And you’ve got the smarts to turn that internship into a real job. You’re young. It’s okay to take some time to yourself. Some kids even take a year or two before going to college to get some work experience.”

 

Later, Peter lounged on the couch next to May with a rerun of Parks and Rec on. May was crocheting a new blanket for the couch and Peter was trying his damnedest not to sulk. He gave a brief thought to patrolling but he just didn’t have the heart to. Before the first commercial break he got a text.

 

_How’s it hangin, Spidey? –Tony_

_Kind of not. –Peter_

 

He forwarded Tony the rejection email he got. Within seconds he saw Tony typing a new message.

 

_Wanna come over and have a movie night? –Tony_

_Trip to Paris got canceled so we can do our normal weekend thing, but at the tower this time. –Tony_

_May’s on board and the lab reno is finally done so you can get a sneak peek. –Tony_

 

Peter frowned and looked over at May who was indeed busy texting on her phone. Peter silently rolled his eyes and turned back to his own phone.

 

_Sure. I’ll catch the 8:20. –Peter_

_Happy’s already 10 min out. –Tony_

_But it’s so late! –Peter_

_And if you think May or I am letting you take the subway this late on a Friday, you need a brain scan from FRIDAY too. –Tony_

_Please don’t make me drag your ass down to the medbay when you get here. –Tony_

_And Karen will snitch on you if you try slinging your way over. –Tony_

_See you soon, Spidey. –Tony_

“I packed a bag for you already,” May said with a smile, finishing a text.

 

“I don’t like it when you two conspire and don’t tell me,” Peter whined.

 

“It’s part of co-parenting, honey. Get used to it.”

 

“Co…nevermind,” he said, rising and heading toward his room to grab some things.

 

May appeared in the doorway a few moments later, sans phone. “It’s okay, you know. You’re not doing Ben or your dad any harm looking up to Tony as a father figure.”

 

Peter froze. “I-I don’t, I…”

 

May gave him the look. “ _Honey_.”

 

Peter threw his bag down on the floor in frustration. “Why does nobody understand this? I can’t afford to think of him like that, May!-Much less tell him!”

 

“Because you don’t want to lose another one?”

 

Traitorous tears pricked at his eyes and he had to look away. He was angry at her for pointing it out so bluntly, but he wasn’t the only one she’d ever done that to. Once upon a time she did that to Uncle Ben. On a regular basis sometimes. Now that Peter was on the regular receiving end of it, he couldn’t help but sympathize with his Uncle. Because it royally sucked sometimes.

May sighed and entered the bedroom, pulling Peter to sit down on the bed next to her. “Look,” she said. “People can be assholes. And I like to think I’m a pretty good judge of character. You’re right about Tony. And I was wrong. He’s a decent guy. And he cares about you _a lot_. As he should given that he’s encouraging this whole superhero thing. The thing you need to know is that you don’t get to decide how he sees you. Just like you didn’t have a choice about who you were and are to me. You’re not just my nephew, Peter. You’re my son, and you always have been. Whether _you_ see me like a mom—”

 

Peter lunged at her because he didn’t want her to finish that thought. “I do,” he mumbled into her shirt.

 

May wrapped her arms around him tightly and kissed the side of his head. “I larb you.”

 

“Larb you too,” he said through his tears.

 

Peter thought about what Aunt May had said all the way over to the tower. He thought about it on the way up in the elevator and even when he was settled in a near pillow fort on the ginormous couch in the penthouse with Tony right beside him and Star Wars Return of the Jedi on the big screen in front of them. There was a big bowl of popcorn between them, and it was one of the rare occasions where Mr. Stark was in the most casual attire he’d ever let Peter see him in, red flannel pajama pants and a black MIT alumni shirt.

 

The whole thing was very dad-like.

 

And May had been so sharply spot on that Peter was terrified of admitting how he felt to the billionaire.

 

Would it weird the Avenger out? For a time it weirded Peter out, but his desire to have something more than the strict mentor/mentee relationship they started out with was stronger. Maybe he kind of already had it in all but words, but Peter couldn’t be entirely sure because Tony Stark just did not talk about things like that. In fact, the man avoided emotions like the plague.

 

So could May really blame Peter for avoiding the issue?

 

His sudden paternal crisis made his rejection from California seem so small. And yet, ignoring it like he had been ignoring it, especially after everything the man had done for him, just seemed wrong. He went to bed that night with a firm resolve in his head to try and talk to Tony about it tomorrow. Or work up the courage to.

 

He just hoped Tony wouldn’t take it the wrong way and… well, kick him out or distance himself or act nice and then stop talking to him because that would literally kill him—

 

“Peter, your heart rate is increasing,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. stated. “Are you having trouble with something? Would you like me to notify Mr. Stark—”

 

“NO-no,” Peter said, forcing himself to take a deep breath. “Just thinking about homework, Fri. I’m fine. I’m fine.”

 

“If you say so,” the A.I. said with a tone that said she didn’t believe him for a second.

 

But since Tony hadn’t knocked on his door by fifteen minutes later, Peter finally relaxed enough to drift off to sleep. As luck would have it, he didn’t have to wait for morning to talk to the genius. Because a vicious nightmare did the legwork for him.

 

_“Dad,” he called, searching abandoned rooms and hallways, and loading docks. “Dad!”_

_He had to find him. He had to get to him. It was his fault this was happening and Peter needed to fix it before it got any worse._

_He came to a large room and saw the Vulture at the far end. The Vulture turned around and looked right at him. Before Peter could move the man smiled._

_The building had fallen on him so suddenly he panicked. He tried to move, but every time he tried it hurt. It dug into his legs, was crushing his chest, cut into his arms and hands. He could hear the Vulture laughing at him._

_“What’s the matter, Pedro,” the villain taunted by his head. “Can’t move?”_

_“Help… me,” he gasped, unable to draw a proper breath._

_“Help you? What about our dad? Didn’t you come here to help him?”_

_How did he know?—“Where is he? What… did… you… do?”_

_“Nothing you didn’t.”_

_It took Peter a long time. He kept trying to raise his head, but every time he tried he found himself staring at the rubble beneath him. He groaned and cried and wriggled, but he was stuck! Why couldn’t anyone understand that he was stuck?! He needed help! He couldn’t breathe! All he could smell and breathe was rust and dirt._  


_“Dad,” he choked. “Dad, help me! I can’t move! Please!”_

_“Previously on Peter screws the pooch,” a familiar voice said above him._

_Peter was finally able to drag his eyes up._

_Tony stood there, pristine, unharmed, and in an impeccable business suit, sans sunglasses. The billionaire glared at him with hands thrust in his pockets. “Good to know I can count on you for anything,” the man said with derision. “Spiderman.”_

_The rubble on top of him shifted, putting more pressure on his chest. “Tony,” he groaned. “Help me!”_

_“Help you? I wanted you to be better than this. I didn’t give you that suit so you could be such a massive failure.”_

_“I’m-I’m-I’m sorry, dad!—”_

 

_“Don’t kid yourself. Who would ever want you as a son?”_

_He wasn’t sure who said it, because suddenly standing next to Tony was Ben. Ben looked at him, his face cold and devoid of any familiarity or warmth. He then pulled on a ski mask, just like the one his murderer had, as well as a gun. Before Peter could utter another gasp for air, Ben had shot Tony._

_There was blood. Something was dripping down—or up—his face. The rubble was trying to swallow him whole. He screamed. But when he opened his mouth the rubble found a way in. No matter how much he tried to scream and get free—_

 

“PETER!”

 

His eyes flew open and he sucked in a wheeze of air.

 

It wasn’t as dark. Nothing was biting and cutting into his skin. His face was wet. His chest downright burned—

 

“Peter, look at me.” There was a hand on his face. He could feel himself shaking but didn’t really know how to stop it. He didn’t have Aunt May with him to whisper softly in his ear—“Breathe kid,” the voice commanded. His hand was grasped in another and placed against something hard and soft. There was a heart beating erratically but trying its hardest to slow down. “Come on… you’re too young for panic attacks. Breathe! Match me, okay?”

 

Panic attack. Right. He got those sometimes. But the only one who knew about them was May. He wasn’t with May, was he? Unfamiliar walls and unfamiliar skylines blurred and he felt like he was falling—“Peter,” Tony barked with hard but terrified eyes. “Take a breath! Now!”

 

Tony. Safety. Tower.

 

Something deflated and eased in his chest. And all of a sudden he started sucking in all the air he could. Tony pulled him more fully against his chest. Immediately Peter wrapped tight arms around the man and buried his face into his shoulder. He felt the man stiffen for just a second before wrapping his own arms around Peter. He spoke softly after that, but his tone was just as commanding, coaching him through proper inhalations and exhalations, over-exaggerating his own breathing to get Peter to remember how to do it himself. When his chest stopped burning and he was breathing normally again, he felt exhaustion drop over him like the rubble of that warehouse had.

 

Tony wasn’t dead. Peter wasn’t buried alive slowly being crushed to death. The Vulture was in jail.

 

“You back with me, kid?”

 

Peter breathed and nodded against his mentor’s shoulder.

 

Tony sighed, but didn’t loosen his arms around Peter either. “Do you want to talk about it—”

 

Tony didn’t even get to finish his question before Peter was tensing up again and pulling in a shaky breath.

 

“Okay-okay,” Tony assuaged. “How about we bench that until tomorrow? That good?”

 

Peter let out a shaky breath and nodded again.

 

“Alright, move over a bit.”

 

Peter had to loosen his arms to let Tony move them both. His brain was so muddled he didn’t even realize why they were moving until Tony was propping a pillow behind his own back with Peter laying down beside him. “You don’t have to—”

 

“Go to sleep, Peter,” he interrupted, pulling the blanket up over them both. “I’ll be right here.”

 

Peter was too tired to protest, or to notice the death grip he had on Tony’s shirt. As soon as the genius laid a hand on Peter’s head and started to run his fingers through his messy curls Peter was out like a light.

 

When Peter woke late the next morning he was the only occupant in the bed. For a few moments he was confused as to why he felt disappointed, and then he remembered the nightmare, the panic attack, and Mr. Stark staying with him as he went back to sleep like Peter was a child. Peter felt humiliated that he’d acted like that. The very last thing he’d wanted was for Mr. Stark to see him at his worst. Just thinking about it had fine tremors passing through his body, but he clamped down on the urge to give in and curl into a ball underneath the covers. F.R.I.D.A.Y. had probably already let the man know he was up, so Peter forced himself to take a deep breath, throw on a hoodie, brush his teeth, and venture out to the kitchen for breakfast.

 

Tony was already sitting at the breakfast bar reading something on a tablet with glasses perched on his nose. Oddly, the genius was still in his pajamas from the night before. Rather than try to puzzle that bit out, Peter bravely took a seat next to him and reached for the box of cereal on the counter.

 

“Figured we’d grab a bite and head down so I can show you the new lab,” Tony said, without looking up. “Sound good?”

 

“Uh, yeah-yeah,” he replied, trying his best to sound normal. “Sounds good.”

 

Peter averted his eyes, worry gnawing at his gut that last night had royally screwed everything. His spider-sense told him Tony was looking at him, but Peter refused to look up and started digging into his bowl.

 

“I get them too, you know,” Tony admitted quietly.

 

Peter paused, mid-chew, afraid to look up.

 

“Chew and swallow, kid.”

 

That cracked a near smile out of him, but he did finish chewing and somehow forced the food down. Then he dared a glance over at Tony who was looking at him with…one of those… dad looks. Any other time Peter would have selfishly melted inside, but at the moment it made him nervous.

 

“I don’t really know when I started to get panic attacks,” Tony started. “But being a superhero kind of exacerbates it for obvious reasons. I wish I could say it gets better, but it depends on the day of the week, even with medication. This all isn’t new to you is it?”

 

Silently, Peter shook his head, mind still reeling from the fact that Tony Stark actually got them too.

 

Tony made a small noise of acceptance. “We can work with that.”

 

“I’m…sorry, about last night, Mr. Stark,” Peter offered.

 

“You remember what I said about rejections, right bud?”

 

Peter opened his mouth to reply, but stalled. Tony thought the nightmare had been about California’s rejection? Of course he would. All the pieces were there. And though Peter had decided last night to broach the subject of how much Tony actually meant to him, and now was the absolute perfect time to do so, Peter chickened out. “Yeah, I remember,” he said.

 

“This college thing is the _last_ thing that you should be panicking over. These rejections mean jack shit. Even if you don’t get in anywhere I’m not just going to drop you, okay? I will help you figure things out. And if investing in your future means you get to start a job at Stark Industries way earlier than anybody in our field it’s not like I didn’t set the precedent for it or anything.”

 

Peter smiled.

 

“Capiche?”

 

Peter nodded.

 

“Alright. Finish up,” he said getting up to refill his coffee mug. “Friday’s dying with excitement to show you her new playroom.”

 

“Whatever you say boss,” F.R.I.D.A.Y. added with some snark.

After three more bowls of cereal and some yogurt, Tony and Peter took the elevator down to the lab. As soon as the elevator doors opened Peter’s jaw dropped. He could _not_ wait to work with Mr. Stark in this new lab. The compound’s lab was nice and spacious, but this one looked like it had twice the amount of equipment (toys) and screens and… workstations? Tony grabbed both of his shoulders from behind and steered him over to a full-sized workstation equipped with all of the things Peter normally used for his web fluid, Spiderman things, and more.

 

“Is this mine,” Peter dared to ask.

 

“Yup,” Tony said with a smile. “This too.” The genius handed him a brand new keycard on a fancy lanyard that gave him all day all night access to the tower, the penthouse, and the lab (though only under proper supervision for a while). “Don’t lose it. Or if you do, just call me so I can rat you out to Pepper.”

 

“I won’t lose it,” Peter said quickly. Getting on Pepper’s bad side was definitely getting filed under the _do not under any circumstance even attempt_ part of his brain. “Thank you so much for this, Mr. Stark.”

 

“This came for you too, by the way,” Tony said, handing him a small envelope with the return address from MIT.

 

_Shit._

 

“Why would this come here,” Peter asked slowly, ignoring the sudden nausea in his stomach.

 

Tony shrugged. “Guess you won’t know until you open it.”

 

The fact that the envelope was the same size as the envelope from Columbia didn’t give Peter a lot of hope. But the last thing he was going to do was have a freak out in front of Mr. Stark, so Peter sighed and tore it open to read the one page letter inside.

 

_Dear Mr. Parker,_

_This will not be one of our typical admission response letters. In reviewing your application materials we found you to stand out as one of the most talented and promising students in one of the most competitive applicant pools in the history of the Institute. We also understand the significance of your internship with one of our most successful alumni, Anthony Stark, and at such a young age. The admissions committee talked at length about your application and your early accomplishments._

_We believe MIT’s new flagship program for distance learning will be a perfect match for both you and Mr. Stark given your current employment status. A formal packet with more specific information as well as financial aid in the form of a half scholarship will be following this letter. On behalf of the Admissions Committee, it is my sincerest pleasure to offer you admission to MIT and our new program!_

_You’ll likely have offers of admission from many fine schools, but we hope that you’ll choose to enroll at MIT. You have until May 1 to let us know if you’ll call MIT home for the next four years. Until then, we look forward to building our relationship with you and helping you to get to know us better. I hope you’ll agree with us that MIT is the perfect place to prepare for your future. As a member of our community, you’ll join builders, scholars, entrepreneurs, and humanitarians. Together, you will make all the difference in a world that desperately needs you. Many congratulations and welcome to MIT! Now stop reading this and go celebrate!_

 

Peter was **_really_** confused. He looked up when he was finished. Tony had been watching him the whole time.

 

“You’ve got questions,” Tony guessed with a knowing look.

 

“Yeah,” Peter said slowly.

 

“Let’s simplify it. It’s a pilot program with a partnered institution, like Stark Industries,” Tony explained. “Well. It is Stark Industries right now-a partnership that’s been long overdue, really. And you’re the guinea pig.”

 

“You mean… I-I can stay here with May and you and… _and_ get my degree?”

 

“Yup. It’s the same degree, but with a built in internship as practical experience which cuts out a whole semester from your third year. They also gave you a half scholarship only because you’re graduating to a paid internship if you accept. You’ll start getting tougher projects, but under my supervision when you’re here. I’m still working out the details as far as academics. Instead of living up there full time you might have to visit once a month for a week or something to satisfy some kind of rule or whatever. I know it’s not the typical college experience every kid looks forward to but—”

 

Peter lunged at Tony and hugged him. Almost immediately Peter sprang away, mortified. “Ohmygod I’msosorry, Mr. Stark. Iknowwe’renotthereyet, Itotallydidn’tmeanthat-”

 

Tony yanked the kid back into a hug. “Yeah, and I do.”

Peter felt a goofy smile break out on his face. Before he could revel in the moment—Tony Stark actually voluntarily hugging him!—the billionaire pushed him away but only at arms length to critically assess him.

 

“Just so we’re clear. Was that a yes to MIT?”

 

“Of course it was,” Peter exclaimed.

 

“Good. And here’s part two. I found out why you got rejected from Columbia and California. Your essay about me?”

 

Peter froze and panic erupted.

 

Tony held up a hand. “Calm down. I’m flattered. You’re my kid and its fine. Point is: They didn’t believe you.”

 

“…wh-what?”

 

“They thought you lied on your application and fabricated that essay. I set the record straight, and probably made a couple of professors piss their pants a little bit, but Columbia and California changed their minds and now they want you. Personally, I wanted to tell them to shove it up their asses, but… the choice is up to you, Underoos. They’re both full rides.”

 

“And,” Peter assessed, his sluggish brain trying to catch up. “MIT is a half scholarship because of the new program…”

 

Tony rolled his eyes. “Right, and you remember what I told you about money…”

 

“I do. And… I also remember what you said about people who don’t want me. If it’s okay with you… I think I’ll stick with MIT.”

 

Tony smiled. “Why is that even a question if that’s okay with me?- _Of course it’s okay!_ —Now I can actually be a proud dad—”

 

Peter’s eyes widened in surprise.

 

Tony then predictably tried to backpedal, _hard._ “Not dad, I meant—”

 

“My nightmare wasn’t about all this college stuff,” Peter blurted out. “It… it was about losing you because… because I don’t think I can handle it again… not after… Ben… and my dad,” he whispered, his voice traitorously shaking. “If it’s weird, I’m sorry, but… you are that person to me… that’s how I see you.”

 

Shit, he’d said it. Shit, he’d finally said it. Shit, why wasn’t Mr. Stark saying anything? Peter didn’t dare look up from the floor. He didn’t want to see that kind of rejection. That kind of rejection actually might be the worst thing he would ever have to face in his entire life—

 

“Why would that be weird, Peter?”

 

Peter’s head shot up and he made eye contact with his mentor. He didn’t really know what to say, but felt his mouth gaping a little bit. He wanted to answer that question, but Peter didn’t really have an answer because the truth was to him it wasn’t weird at all. And to his shock and awe it didn’t seem to be anything weird to Mr. Stark either.

 

“Newsflash,” Tony said. “It isn’t.”

 

A huff of laughter was what broke the dam on Peter’s tear-filled eyes. Sobs lodged in his throat, and he did keep them down at first, until Tony pulled him back into his arms. He buried his face in his mentor’s chest to try and quiet them, though the man would feel the sheer force of them anyway. And Tony had to know rubbing his back just made it worse. Because whenever Peter needed to cry, Ben did the exact same thing eerily in the exact same way Tony was doing.

 

When Ben died Peter cried minimal tears. Because crying didn’t take the guilt away, or the fact that his uncle’s blood would be on his hands for the rest of his life. So though Peter should have expected it, it still came as a surprise to him that once Tony opened that door a LOT of grief came pouring out.

 

“I know I can be an ass sometimes,” the genius admitted above his head, his arms tightening around Peter and the rest of his body tense with emotion. “But I can’t lose you either, kid. And I will tell you this as many times as it takes. This whole thing about you being just some dumb kid is _bullshit_. Okay? Because you’re my kid and that’s what matters to me.”

 

Peter steadied himself, but kept his face hidden in Tony’s shirt when he said, “Love you, Mr. Stark.”

 

A small huff from his nose and then a soft, “Love you too, Pete,”

 

Tony turned halfway away to try and surreptitiously wipe at a few tears of his own, but Peter saw them all the same and felt his own awkwardness evaporate. “It’s totally your fault I’ve reached my emotional quota for the year, you know,” Tony accused.

 

“I’ll send Pepper apology flowers,” Peter replied, cleaning off his own face.

 

They both chuckled and got to work breaking the new lab in. With Peter sufficiently distracted Tony pulled up the security recording of the acceptance, packaged the video file, and sent it over to May’s phone. A short while later he got a text from her.

_God damn it, Stark, my make up is ruined._ _–Hot Aunt May_

 

_I’ll send someone to fix it. –Tony_

_Don’t you dare. –Hot Aunt May_

_Thank you… –Hot Aunt May_

_And you thought you wouldn’t make a good father… -Hot Aunt May_

_Gloat all you want. –Tony_

_We get to keep our kid close to home. –Tony_

_Thank God! –Hot Aunt May_

_Teamwork makes the dream work. –Tony_

_I’ll have him back by dinner. –Tony_

_Bring him back Sunday. Let him celebrate. You both deserve it. –Hot Aunt May_

He turned his head to check on Peter who was busy furiously writing down equations. Even if he had another kid with Pepper, because they’d been actively trying to do so for the past few months, it wouldn’t change a thing about his relationship with Peter. Sometimes the kid reminded Tony of himself so much that he had to remind himself this kid didn’t have his own genes. Maybe that realization would have made others feel sad or partially empty, but it actually made Tony’s heart feel relieved and full.

 

Eventually, and reluctantly, Tony sighed and pulled up the rest of his text messages.

_Well? <3 –Pepper_

_Did you tell him yet? –Rodgers_

_I can get blackmail material on the kid if you need it. –Barnes_

_Has son of Parker chosen his fate? –Thor_

 

_I can ruin this bully in two seconds... –Romanov_

_We still got Spidey? –Sam_

_Did Peter decide? –Banner_

_Did I win the bet or what? –Clint_

_Seriously, man, the suspense is killing me. –Rhodey_


End file.
